


0530

by SomewhereApart



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 0530 on Colonial One. Do you know where your pilots are?</p>
            </blockquote>





	0530

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [discussion](http://pali167.livejournal.com/58253.html?thread=424845#t424845) in [](http://antismiles.livejournal.com/profile)[**antismiles**](http://antismiles.livejournal.com/) 's journal, and politely requested by [](http://antismiles.livejournal.com/profile)[**antismiles**](http://antismiles.livejournal.com/) and [](http://eugis.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://eugis.livejournal.com/)**eugis** . Prompt: “Hey, Mr. Prez, I'm still recovering from the mind-blowing sex last night.”

Kara woke to the feeling of stubble along the curve of her neck, warm arms around her middle, the tickle of chest hair against her back. The stubble gave way to kisses, warm and damp, making their way up to that spot behind her ear that never failed to have goosebumps breaking out along her neck. She sighed softly, shivered just a little when sure enough, there they were.

“What time is it?” Her voice was rough with sleep and exhaustion (because somehow, no matter how much sleep she got lately, it was never quite enough. She wondered if it had something to do with being dead. Then she figured it was probably just all the marathon sex.)

“About 0530,” he answered, warm breath wafting against the wet path his mouth was leaving on its way to her nape.

“I should get back to Galactica. Catch the shuttle at 0600.” It was the last thing she wanted, but she was the CAG now, and she still had to make some final adjustments to the recon schedule before the morning briefing. Frakking the President of the Colonies didn’t mean she could shirk her duties. (Maybe the whole being-dead thing had also fried that reckless, impulsive part of her that wouldn’t have given a damn about making the morning briefing. Maybe she’d stay a while and just skip breakfast.)

“No.” It was almost pouty, and suddenly she wanted to see his face (she always wanted to see his face), so she shifted onto her back and blinked open heavy eyelids. She might as well not have bothered. The only source of light in the room was the digital clock on the bedside, and that didn’t provide nearly enough illumination to see Lee’s face. She’d forgotten what it was like to sleep in pitch darkness. The Galactica duty locker was never quite the black of Colonial One.

Stubble again, against her cheek this time, and then his mouth was on hers. Slow, lazy kisses that made her toes curl and her belly warm. He tasted like morning and smelled like stale sweat, but she wouldn’t have traded it for the worlds. Not for Earth. Not for anything. Who’d have thought that now, finally, when everything had been lost, they would find a way to make things work. It was fitting, she supposed. When nothing else was left, they’d always had each other.

She was almost nodding off again into the steady, patient rhythm of lip and tongue when she felt one sneaky hand work its way between her thighs to cup her lazily. “Mm.” She broke the kiss, shook her head slightly. “Hey, Mr. Prez,” she warned teasingly. “I'm still recovering from the mind-blowing sex last night.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, rubbing his palm over her slowly, lightly.

Kara sighed contentedly and decided the recon schedule was probably just fine as it was.

 


End file.
